


I'm the secret that you hide, I'll be listening until you decide

by helicases



Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Actions speak louder than words but sometimes you still need to spell things out, Angst, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 16:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helicases/pseuds/helicases
Summary: It's habit, looking for Mark, even when Donghyuck knows he's not nearby.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 20
Kudos: 241
Collections: OBSCURE SORROWS FIC FEST





	I'm the secret that you hide, I'll be listening until you decide

**Author's Note:**

> And the randomly selected words from the obscure sorrows dictionary today are:
> 
> **Waldosia**  
_(n.)_ a condition characterized by scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, which is your brain’s way of checking to see whether they’re still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day.
> 
> **Catoptric Tristesse**  
_(n.)_ the sadness that you’ll never really know what other people think of you, whether good, bad or if at all—that although we reflect on each other with the sharpness of a mirror, the true picture of how we’re coming off somehow reaches us softened and distorted, as if each mirror was preoccupied with twisting around, desperately trying to look itself in the eye.
> 
> **
> 
> Many, many thanks to the mods for organizing something as fun and low key as this fest. Thank you to my beta for helping me circle around the opted-in and assigned words until I finally landed somewhere solid. Thank you also to the other friends who let me yell about emotions. I may not have great words for all of the feelings, but they sure are out there.

“It's this way, hyung,” says Jisung, and Donghyuck snaps back to attention. 

“Right, I'm coming.”

Jisung frowns. When he wrinkles his nose, years of habit ingrained in Donghyuck has him reaching out to boop it. Jisung's offended squawk is enough to cover Donghyuck's lapse in attention, but Donghyuck still glances over his shoulder as they round the corner and head down another hallway. 

It's empty behind them as it should be, but just for a second, he thought he saw Mark. 

**

Switching lanes for promotions and other events is rough, especially when time zones come into play and Donghyuck arrives at the next hotel or the dorms in the liminal hours, rubbing the sleepiness out of his eyes so he can make it to bed. It doesn't even have to be  _ his _ bed, he just wants to lay down and rest somewhere for as long as he can until their early morning call time. The lift doors open with a soft  _ ding _ and suddenly Donghyuck is wide awake. There, in the distance, is movement in the vague shape of Mark Lee. 

Before  _ Dear DREAM _ — before Mark’s graduation — the flips between subunits were made more bearable by Mark’s company. One or both of them might nod off on a plane or in the van, but usually Mark would shake Donghyuck awake and lead the way into whatever building stood before them. When Donghyuck was bored on a long ass ride, he could count on Mark to entertain him, willingly or not. Sometimes Mark would sling an arm around him and let Donghyuck rest his head on his shoulder, softened by the night. After graduation, sometimes Donghyuck would find Mark still awake when he got back to the 127 dorms, having wandered down to work on something with Taeyong. Sometimes, he would come home to silence, and sometimes that was more stifling than calming.

“Haechan-ah?” Donghyuck hears, and he lets his feet carry him on autopilot toward the shape he can now confirm is Mark, and not one of the other members or one of their managers. He’s tired, which is his excuse for not stopping until he’s a breath away, and only stopping then to drop his head onto Mark’s shoulder. When Mark doesn’t push him away, Donghyuck presses in harder. There are no cameras, no other eyes to judge him for being clingy, especially if Mark doesn’t say anything. He's tired, and for once, not worried deep down about how this looks.

“Were you leaving?” Donghyuck asks, syllables heavy on his tongue, but not heavier than his eyelids. If Mark stays still, maybe Donghyuck can sleep like this. He knows Mark wouldn’t let him fall, at least not on purpose.

Mark sighs and Donghyuck hears the keypad on the door beep. “Come on, let’s get you inside,” Mark says. Donghyuck almost protests, but Mark slips an arm around his waist to hold him up and the warmth is too comforting for him to complain.

The journey from the door to Donghyuck’s room is a blur, but before he drops off entirely, a hand brushes his hair out of his face, sweeping back and lingering on the crown of his head. Donghyuck presses into the touch, turning his head further into the pillow. 

“Not a dream?” he slurs, and he hears a soft laugh in response. 

“No,” Mark’s voice says from somewhere above him. “I’m here. Goodnight, Haechan-ah.”

“Night,” Donghyuck manages, and then he’s out before Mark can say anything else.

**

They split up before they even cross the threshold of the souvenir shop in Miami. Donghyuck pulls himself out of Mark’s orbit and goes to inspect the selection of slippers, slides, and sandals. He helps Yuta pick out sunglasses, a pair of his own in hand, shiny and reflective. The gleam complements both his skin and his hair, so he considers it a major win. Another win is how the cameras don’t catch him frowning down at his reflection, tracing the frame of the sunglasses with only slightly shaky fingers. Donghyuck knows he looks camera-ready, especially for filming another installment of  _ Hit the States _ , but something had lodged itself in his throat when he woke up this morning and he hasn’t been able to force it all the way down yet. No one seems to have noticed, and Donghyuck can’t decide whether that makes him feel better or worse.

The beach is a welcome distraction. He rushes into the water almost immediately, but not without trying to drag Taeil in with him. When Mark lets Donghyuck carry him into the ocean not once, but twice, the thing in his throat drops and settles somewhere in his chest.

The sound of laughter and the rush of the ocean breeze are enough to carry Donghyuck until he steps onstage, and then they are supplemented by the cheering of thousands of Czennies. That carries him into the next Neo City Tour stop: Dallas.

When they set out for another day of filming, Mark tells Donghyuck he doesn’t know where they’re going, but that they’re about to find out. Donghyuck wishes that applied to figurative and not just literal destinations. Still, the arboretum is beautiful, as is the burst of laughter when he imitates Mark trying to play with a squirrel. Less than ideal is the way Mark takes hold of his wrists and pulls him into position so they can pose like a set of statues. One of the figures is up in the air, being swung around or blown away, and the thing that settled heavy in his chest in Miami rustles dangerously. 

“Okay,” he drawls, and when Mark lets go of him immediately, Donghyuck keeps moving. 

Mark talks about sunflowers and the way they turn to face the sun, and Donghyuck thinks sometimes Mark is more like the sun than he is, not that he'd ever say so. He looks out over the gardens instead, chin up, a composed Full Sun for the Czennies and Sunflowers who will watch his episode when it's posted. He thinks about the way their shoulders bump and their arms brush against each other as they walk, and he is grateful for how Mark doesn't try to put distance between them. Donghyuck tells himself it's not just to keep both of them in frame for their self-cams, because they stick together even when the staff are taking wider shots from a distance. 

He thinks they might look good like this, with Mark in shades of blue and Donghyuck in a soft white sweater. Mark talks about being a tulip back in school, and Donghyuck wonders if a bouquet with the two of them would look pretty or if it would be too much. 

Donghyuck makes a beeline for the seated statue on a bench further into the arboretum, and is rewarded with Mark Lee absolutely losing his shit as Donghyuck talks to the figure as if it’s his dad. This too is a habit — playing it up for the cameras, but mostly trying to keep Mark laughing like that. Sure, Mark laughs easily, but some of that is because he genuinely thinks Donghyuck is funny. This is one fact that remains unmarred by Donghyuck's worries, and he clings to it tightly. 

When they move on, Mark circles back to the flowers again. He asks if it's true, if you need to love flowers to help them grow, and Donghyuck thinks,  _ yes _ . 

Management reminds them from time to time not to search themselves on SNS, but they all do. He can tell by the furrow in Taeyong's brow before they go onstage or the self-conscious way some of them fix their hair constantly after revealing a new dye job. He knows he shouldn't hold the words to his chest the way he does, but the chorus of distaste is loud and it drips heavy from his hands and slips in between his ribs. He sees negative commentary and tries not to wilt like a dying flower, tries to remember that he's doing his best, and that some people  _ must _ like him enough for NCT to be where they are now. It's just hard sometimes, and like a flower, Donghyuck needs some form of light. 

Mark carries the conversation on the “tram” with both drivers, open and friendly and earnest as ever. Donghyuck just tries to maintain his pleasantly neutral expression, especially when Mark drapes his arm across the seat, resting warm around Donghyuck's shoulders. Mark is not a heat lamp, but if Donghyuck were a sunflower, he knows which way he would turn. 

When they model for the cameras in the tree tunnel, Donghyuck forces himself to focus on the way he'll come out on camera instead of on the boy running by his side. Thankfully, it's easy from there to slip into a cheerful song about getting ready to go eat, and Donghyuck is genuinely delighted when Mark joins in. 

They settle into a corner booth, and maybe it's the promise of food or how close they are on their respective edges of the table, but the tide turns and everything feels more comfortable. This is familiar territory, teasing each other about whether they've remembered to bring their wallets, poring over menus together, and sharing food. They bicker, but without any heat, and neither Mark's teasing nor his laughter stings. Donghyuck leans back in his seat for a moment and allows himself to take it all in. 

They're both a little perplexed by the chicken fried steak, but they try everything and make sincere, appropriately pleased noises for the cameras. They enlist the help of the manager with them and a waiter to decide who pays, and Donghyuck laughs hard, unabashedly and loudly, when the person selects Mark's credit card from the spread without hesitation. It echoes, but it feels good, and Donghyuck finds he's happy Johnny gave him the sash for Dallas when they assigned themselves cities in North America. He's happy Mark went with him. 

When they get back, Taeyong asks how filming went, and Mark turns to Donghyuck for an answer. 

“Honestly, it really felt kind of like a date.”

Mark doesn't laugh — he just smiles, something small but warm and soft around the eyes, and Donghyuck thinks,  _ maybe _ . 

**

June is a whirlwind of broadcast appearances, fansigns, and another leg of their tour. Dream squeezes in practices for their next comeback, and Donghyuck finds himself once again back in the habit of waiting for a seventh person to fill the spaces between them. It doesn't matter that they've been practicing as six for months, or that 127 feels stable and gives him time — however limited, given individual schedules and overlapping commitments — with Mark. He only stumbles once, waiting for Mark to slide past him as they exchange center positions, and thankfully Jaemin is the only one who really notices the hesitation. He doesn't bring it up, and Donghyuck makes a mental note to buy some of his favorite snacks and leave them in his room later as a gift. 

At some of the 127 fansigns, Donghyuck turns to tell Mark a joke or to point out something cute, only to remember that Taeyong and Mark are absent that day. He hopes his twitching to the side is marked down as just that — a twitch as a byproduct of excitement for the 127 comeback, or too much coffee. He hopes he won't find any fan theories about his behavior, and he makes a mental note not to look. He stays late in the practice rooms, too good at convincing his hyungs he’ll leave soon, really, and there's no one to drag him out the way he would back when they were younger.

The comeback and preparations are fun and exciting, but at the same time, sometimes Donghyuck feels like he's just treading water, like when he walked into the ocean in Miami with Mark in his arms, he left some part of himself there. 

**

Two days after they finish SMTown Live in Tokyo, the official announcement comes out. They knew it was coming — they weren't supposed to talk about it, exactly, but certain secrets are hard to keep from a group as vast and yet so close as theirs. 

Donghyuck has his hand around Mark's wrist, running his thumb across the thin skin there when the news breaks, and the announcement physically jostles them apart. The members who are present crowd around to show their support and to tease Mark about debuting once again. It feels like his hand has been slapped away — not even by Mark this time — and whatever progress they might have been making together starts to crumble. Donghyuck's resolve shrivels up, so he pastes on a smile, pinching Mark’s cheek and congratulating him on being the maknae of another group. He tells him not to get too used to it, and files away the way Mark's whole face scrunches up when he smiles. 

August leaves them busy and Mark literally leaves them for SuperM filming. Donghyuck expects  _ We Boom _ promotions to keep him occupied, and he’s not entirely wrong. He makes an added effort not to message Mark too much while they're apart. It's already hard enough to figure out and constantly second guess what Mark might be thinking when they're face to face. Plus, he's putting in long hours and the time difference between them keeps waxing more than it is waning. It's easier to keep Mark in his pocket, the line between them locked behind a phone passcode, but unfortunately it's easier still to wonder how he's coming across when they  _ do _ talk. Renjun and Jaemin keep eyeing him nervously — they still haven’t asked about his slip-ups in practice and he wants to keep it that way — so he dials up the charm and charisma on stage. He doesn't stumble again. Not visibly, at least. 

Then the SuperM teasers drop, and the thing that made its home in Donghyuck's chest before now drops heavily into his stomach. Mark Lee is everywhere and nowhere all at once. His rap in the individual concept trailer — even the lone “yah” before it really kicks in — haunts Donghyuck for days. 

It's not that he's worried he'll be replaced — not exactly, not in those words, because they have had and will continue to have separate projects and different colleagues — but that too much time apart will successfully dismantle the defense Donghyuck had built in his head for why a confession might not tear them apart. If his hyungs aren't around as much, who's to say he hasn't been imagining the potential, or that his perception of how anyone feels about him is real? Will this — will he finally start to blur around the edges until someone finally reaches over and adjusts the lens? Will someone want to? Or will he fade like the characters traced into the side of his drinking glass, leaving behind only a faint memory of having been visible and known?

“Maybe it's time you switch to water,” Renjun says, not unkindly, and Donghyuck takes the full, offered glass so he has something to do with his hands. 

“For what it's worth —” Renjun starts, but Donghyuck shakes his head. “Okay,” Renjun says softly, fingers featherlight on the back of Donghyuck’s hand before he breaks contact and folds his own hands back into his lap. 

“Okay,” Donghyuck echoes, and he downs half the glass of water in one go. 

**

It's Day 3 in Seoul, but SuperM are preparing for another show in D.C., thousands of kilometers away. They can't visit during rehearsals or stay to watch the show when they’re an ocean apart, so Donghyuck doesn't try looking for them. Donghyuck isn't thinking about them at all until he is, and then it's there in the undercurrent of the entire performance. Every stage. Every interlude. Still, he stomps his feet, rolls his body, plays around, and sings with as much of his heart as he can.

The fans cheer for Chenle and his family, who flew to Korea to see Dream perform. It’s sweet, simple and sincere, and then it's Donghyuck's turn. In the lull between his steps forward and his first words, the voices of the fans swell up around him, sympathetic and kind. 

“Are you expecting me to cry?” he asks, smiling. Donghyuck knows if he hesitates too long, that's it. It’s over. He knows the fans and the rest of his team can see that too, but this time, the reflection of his feelings from the audience doesn't scare him. Donghyuck knows that here, at least, his image — how he's coming off — feels genuine, and even if not every person believes the picture he's painting, it's still real. Softer around the edges, maybe, but undeniably him. Here, he can try to be honest and they'll let him do it. His friends will know that this is real, and not solely an act or a filtered response for the fans and the cameras. Every word takes another piece of him, and he holds it out for the world — or part of it, at least — to see. 

Donghyuck thanks everyone, but above everyone and everything else, he thanks the rest of Dream. He's grateful for the shoulder Chenle lends him, and the way the rest come over to offer their comfort. Donghyuck thanks each of them for taking care of him, and understanding him even if he doesn't always know what they really think about him. Silently, maybe a little selfishly, he thanks Renjun and Jisung for crying too. He can't help it and neither can they, but it reminds him he's not alone. 

Chenle rests a hand on his shoulder, gentle and grounding, and that's enough to push the next words out of his mouth. Saying it out loud, and in front of so many people makes it real. Saying it out loud and having to stop to collect himself means the rest of NCT — who he already knows will watch this at some point — will be more inclined to ask him about it. Still, he looks out into the crowd, high above the heads of their fans, searching for the faintest flicker, a wisp of smoke in the shape of someone who has no reason — no way — to be there. He strains his ears for the sound of a loud and unrestrained laugh to lighten the mood or break an awkward silence.

“I miss Mark-hyung even more today.” Donghyuck tips his head skyward to let the words go, and the crowd's collective breath hitches. It's them he's thinking of, but Mark too, when he asks them to think about the future instead of focusing on past regrets. “I really love you,” he says, “and I hope we'll meet again in the future.”

**

Mark is ecstatic, practically vibrating on set where they'll be recording a Christmas gift for the fans. Donghyuck is excited too — it's always nice to be together again to record for another project, and he feels this spark every time — but if Mark keeps bouncing his leg like that, he's going to wear a hole into the sofa. 

Donghyuck uncrosses his legs to nudge Mark's shin with his foot. “Stop that,” he says, and leaves his leg dangling off his side of the sofa while he adjusts the reindeer antlers he's wearing as a headband. 

Mark acquiesces, finally still except for his hands, trying to smooth his hair under the hat the stylists let him wear for the shoot. Donghyuck leans over, impatient, and adjusts the fold of the knit cap for him, finger combing his hair into place. Mark goes still and Donghyuck does not make eye contact until he sits back, safe again. 

It's…good. Donghyuck focuses on the lyrics, voice sweet and honey golden, instead of on Mark sitting across from him. Ostensibly it's so they don't start laughing again and have to start over when this take is going so well, but also it's safer this way. For Donghyuck, at least. He only makes the mistake of meeting Mark's eyes once while singing, and he's careful to lose himself in swaying back and forth to the song after that. 

The staff let them play around at the end, intending to capture more candid footage to round out the video. Mark hands the acoustic guitar over easily when Donghyuck says he wants to play. He laughs when Donghyuck pretends to strum and harmonizes with his dramatics, just as loud if not louder. When Donghyuck drops back onto the couch, he lands next to Mark instead of across from him, breathless and content. Their closing message to fans is warm, but not as warm as the press of their knees together. 

The free time they have is precious, and each of the members has preferred ways to spend it. When Mark follows him on his walk, after the shoot is complete and they've said their thanks and farewells, Donghyuck doesn't question it. He doesn't want him to change his mind and leave him alone, so he doesn't draw attention to the fact that Mark is shadowing him closely instead of the other way around. In fact, he's so focused on acting like this is normal, everyday Mark Lee behavior that he doesn't realize they've been walking for a while, or that the steady presence at his shoulder has been steering the two of them toward a row of food stalls. 

“What?” Donghyuck sputters. 

“Hotteok,” Mark says simply, adjusting his face mask and giving their order before Donghyuck can respond. “As a treat,” he adds, as if that helps. 

Donghyuck huffs and pulls out his wallet — which he didn't forget this time, thank you very much — but Mark plucks it out of his hands, ignores his offended squawk, and replaces it with the first hotteok the vendor hands him. There's a bit of an awkward shuffle on Mark's end as he tries to balance two wallets and his own snack  _ and _ pay for both of them, but he manages. As they search for someplace to sit, Mark reaches over and slips Donghyuck's wallet back into his pocket for him. He pats the pocket and withdraws his hand, and Donghyuck tries not to jump. 

“Do you not want that?” Mark asks, nodding at the hotteok Donghyuck is still clutching tightly.

“You're being weird,” Donghyuck says, but he sits down on a bench and tugs his face mask down anyway. Mark looks more pleased when Donghyuck takes a bite than when he tries his own snack. It makes him a little queasy. 

When they're done, it doesn't take much prompting on his part to get Mark going, talking about how things have been with SuperM. He's extra animated, bright eyed and talking fast, and Donghyuck gets swept along with him. Mark follows him into the dorm instead of going up to the other floor, and Donghyuck just goes along with it. No point in arguing, even when Mark heads straight for his room after they put their shoes away. 

“Make yourself at home, hyung,” Donghyuck deadpans, but Mark has already flopped onto his bed. 

“What about you, though?” Mark asks, eyes tracking him as he moves around his room and puts things away. “You haven't kicked me out of the Dream group chat yet, but I still feel like I miss things.”

“That's because not everything is about you,” Donghyuck says sweetly, but he's already sitting down and settling in so he can get Mark caught up. 

He blinks and another hour has passed and Mark is laughing so hard he's clutching his side, eyes watery with mirth. 

“You're a mess,” Donghyuck says, but he's laughing too, and he reaches out without really thinking about it, thumbing at the tears that have gathered along Mark's lash line. 

Mark hiccups and his laughter subsides, and Donghyuck realizes he's cradling Mark's face in his hands and Mark isn't looking away. He's not moving at all, but when Donghyuck starts to pull back, he brings his hands up and rests them on Donghyuck's wrists to hold him in place. 

“Your eyes are way too big,” Donghyuck says, voice feeling too loud for the space between them, but Mark just snorts and doesn't let go.

They've known each other long enough that sometimes, Mark will look at him and Donghyuck will see a fragment — sometimes a sliver, sometimes a larger, more complex array of emotions — of himself reflected back. Sometimes it's distorted, like they feel the same things but shifted slightly to the left. They're different people and they won't always want the same things. Donghyuck whines about it, but he understands, or he tries to. 

Right now, Mark's eyes are a mirror, and this time Donghyuck thinks their reflections are true. 

No. He knows. 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/telomirage)!
> 
> the title is from "night sky" by chvrches. also, I just want it on the record that the working title for this fic was "where's waldo."


End file.
